


could-have-been

by zimtlein



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst and Feels, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Heartbreak, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimtlein/pseuds/zimtlein
Summary: Love isn’t supposed to feel like endless doubt. Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 20
Kudos: 71





	could-have-been

**Author's Note:**

> For P.

Just once second, and Luka is gone. From one moment to the next – just gone. Desperately, Marinette holds onto her cup of red wine. Nothing too expensive, brought by one of the guests, she guesses. A bit too sour for her taste. It’s loud in here, music echoing from way too many corners, people being too close to her, and she tries her best not to look too out of place. Her dress seems too short. It was Alya who convinced her of actually buying it (“Come on, girl! You look absolutely gorgeous!”). She keeps tugging at the fabric, takes a nip from her wine – and almost chokes.

Because there is a familiar face in the crowd. A way too familiar face.

She stares. She stares too hard. She tries to conceal her stare by making herself look smaller and leaning against the wall. Her palms feel clammy. She brushes some strands from behind her ear, hoping they will hide her face. Even though she knows that she should have more confidence than this. In fact, she should walk up to him no problem, say hi, laugh about old times. Be casual and engaging and just herself.

Remember all the times she thought about him for endless days.

Remember all the times she thought about his silky hair and his wonderful smile.

Remember all the times she wished she could be with him.

Her heart is racing. Something in her chest clenches. Maybe it’s her chance. It has been years. She should be an adult. She has her own apartment. She is supposed to be an adult. She pays her own bills. Mostly. The rim of her cup rests on her lips, and she doesn’t lift it further. Watches blonde hair. It’s no one else but him. It’s him. Oh god, it’s –

“Hey,” someone next to her says. “Alone here?”

Marinette winces. Blinks at the stranger. Not unattractive, but she isn’t really here for mindless flirting, and the smile on her face comes up too quickly to be smothered.

“Um, not really,” she answers.

“Oh?” He leans closer. She resists the urge to lean away. “I don’t know you though, do I?”

“I don’t – no, I don’t think so. I’m here with Luka. If you know him, that is. Um.”

He blinks a few times. “Luka Couffaine?”

“Yep! Yep. Him.”

“His girlfriend?”

She laughs too loudly. “No. No, I’m not.”

“Can’t say I ain’t glad.” He holds his hand out to her. He’s somehow too much – from his strong grip to his muscular arms to that smile he must think can bring any girl to her knees. “What’s your name?”

“Um …” She withdraws her hand. Takes a step back. Almost bumps into someone else, and with an apologetic sound, she turns her head. “Marinette. Hi. But I actually, I, well …”

Because not far away from them, golden hair threatens to disappear in the crowd again. They are in the ridiculously large living room, and she’ll only have seconds not to let this chance slip away, and before she can change her mind, she whirls her head around to the guy one last time.

“Sorry, gotta go!” she squeaks, and proceeds to squeeze herself through the crowd.

The wine sloshes around in her cup, leaving trails of red on white plastic. She doesn’t pay it any attention. With loudly uttered excuses and hasty steps, she dodges people left and right, trying not to bump into anyone in the process. For some moments, she loses track of golden hair, only for them to reappear close to the room’s door. People start staring at her, but she doesn’t care, and when she finally reaches him –

She trips over her own feet.

With a scream, she manages to hold onto a random girl to her right. Like a scene out of a horror movie, she watches her cup of wine fly through the air, drops of red describing a perfect curve. Shocked faces watch as red wine lands on a perfectly white high-quality shirt. Her heart is beating up to her throat. Her knees get shaky. She needs seconds until she can look at his face, and the cup falls to the floor, leaving a clattering hollow sound.

“Adrien,” she breathes.

Surprise is written all over his face. Not a glimmer of anger, or annoyance, or anything – only surprise. Marinette realizes she is still clinging onto that random girl, and with a string of apologizes, she takes a hearty step back.

“Marinette?” he replies.

Her mouth dries. Because yes, this is him. Adrien Agreste. Just as handsome as ever, with a jaw that seems more prominent than years ago, with arms that seem to have gotten more muscular, with hair that plays around his face in soft waves, with lips that beg to be kissed. She feels herself blush to the tips of her ears, and before she knows it, someone has planted a hand on her shoulder.

“No way, Marinette! So nice to see you here!” Another familiar face – Nino. “And of course, messing up my man’s perfect outfit.”

As if having forgotten all about that particular incident, Adrien looks down at himself. “Oh. No big deal.”

“S-sorry!” She snaps her head back to Nino. “Hi!” She looks at Adrien again. “So sorry! Oh my god!”

“Like I said, no big deal. You know, my father has enough of those.” He smiles at her, and her whole world threatens to crumble at the seams. When he holds his arms out for her, she feels like she isn’t even in her own body anymore. But before she can step closer, he looks at his reddened shirt again. “Uh, I guess no hug for now.”

“But hey, so great to see you!” Nino pats her back again, then slides an arm around her shoulders. “Feels like we haven’t seen each other for an eternity, dude.”

“Well, technically it’s been four years,” she mumbles.

Some girl brought Adrien a few tissues, and with a sweet smile that she remembers well (way too well), he thanks her. Marinette stares at her. Blonde, and pretty, and cute, and maybe, just maybe – but then Adrien starts cleaning his own shirt, and the constricting feeling leaves as soon as it arose.

“I see that you’ve become way less clumsy during that time,” Nino tells her, laughter in his eyes.

She hits his arm lightly. “I see you’ve become much more of a smartass.”

“Woah! Ouch.”

With a contemplating look, Adrien turns from left to right and back again. “Somehow, that’s kind of fashionable, isn’t it?”

“Oh god,” she groans. “I’m really, really sorry. Can I drink you a bring? Uh … Can I ring you – bring. Can I bring you a – or do you already …”

She stops her word vomit when Adrien raises a cup of his own, a cheeky little smile on his lips. “All good. Can I bring you something?”

“No!” She smacks a hand over her mouth. “I mean, no, you don’t have to! I can get one on my lone – own, on my – you know!”

Adrien winks at her. He actually does. “No worries. I’ll fix you something.”

Before she can protest, he is already stepping away. With silky hair, and a walk that speaks of pure confidence, and a body that is to die for, and this isn’t good, this isn’t good. After years of getting over him – this isn’t good at all.

“Nope, you haven’t changed at all,” Nino laughs next to her, his arm still around her shoulders.

It’s a surprisingly cold summer night. Whoever owns this apartment must have either rich parents or a well-paid job, because the balcony is the size of a whole room, and in the other corner, some drunk people laugh too loudly and clink their bottles of beer. Luka has sent her a message, and while Marinette is looking at the display of her phone, she doesn’t even notice Nino leaning closer.

“Huh,” he says. “Couffaine? You two a thing?”

She flicks her finger against his arm. “We’re not.”

“Damn. And all of us were sure he had a serious crush on you.”

“Right,” she snorts.

“It’s true, though.” Adrien smiles at her. “He hung around you so often that we all thought it was only a matter of time.”

She returns his look. Is there a shimmer of jealousy in his eyes? Probably not, and it wouldn’t even make sense. That was years ago. Not that it would change anything, because she had four years to get over him. Never seeing him, unfollowing his social media, avoiding ads he appeared in, trying to get rid of the empty feeling inside her heart, trying so hard to feel the same for other guys as she felt for him. Trying again, and again, and again, and never feeling her heart jump the same way it does now. Never searching for a sign of anything like she does now. Never wondering –

She shrugs. “We’re just friends.”

Nino lifts his eyebrows a few times. “With benefits?”

“Oh my god, Nino. Stop! He has a girlfriend.”

“Sorry, sorry.” With a laugh, he leans back. “So, heard Alya got a girlfriend too?”

“Very subtle way of asking for updates. Well, not anymore. They broke up four months ago.”

“Pity. She was cute. Judging from their Instagram pics, that is.”

Marinette shrugs again. “Guess they weren’t a good fit after all. But they’re still friends.” She narrows her eyes. “Totally not stalking her, are you?”

“Me? Never.” Nino leans back with a smile. “C’mon, dudette. No way to ignore someone who posts that often, is there?”

“Sure. If you say so.”

“Hm,” another voice joins them. “Got some company, Marinette?”

Beaming, she looks up at Luka. It’s the first time his hair is dyed a consistent black, and it brings out his blue eyes, and she still wonders how his current girlfriend could convince him of doing it. He was blonde before, had green hair, then red hair, and when he met Anais, everything kind of changed.

“Luka! Man, haven’t seen you for an eternity.” Nino doesn’t hesitate to jump up and give Luka a pat on the back. With a slight smile, Luka tries his best to balance his two drinks, then hands one of them over to Marinette. She takes a little sniff. Gin tonic. With an appreciative sound, she takes a generous gulp and watches as Adrien greets him too.

“How did you two get in here?” Luka asks, sitting down across from them at the small table.

“Y’know, famous people and their crazy connections,” replies Nino, pointing at Adrien. In return, he shrugs.

“Yeah. I know Pierre from a business party my father hosted.”

Luka nods thoughtfully. “Thought he’d only invite his uni buddies.”

“I think Pierre’s parties are gettin’ a bit too famous for that,” Nino says. “Hell, I betcha most people here don’t even know who he is!”

Hesitantly, Marinette lifts a hand and sips her drink. “Guilty as charged.”

“Didn’t miss out on anything,” Luka says. “Just another rich guy with too much free time.”

With a snort, Nino jabs his finger into Adrien’s rips. “Guess someone over here knows how that one feels.”

“Very funny,” mumbles Adrien. “I usually really don’t have that much free time, okay?”

Tilting his head to the side, Luka points at Adrien’s shirt. “Either a girl got angry at you, or you’re having some bad luck tonight.”

Marinette gives a sound that almost resembles a squeak. “N-no, that’s on me! Entirely on me. No angry girl here, and, uh, I’m still sorry.”

“I still think it’s fashionable.” Adrien shrugs.

“Yeah,” drawls Luka. “Aren’t models supposed to have some taste?”

The snort Nino emits is quickly covered by him taking a sip of his beer. “Well, judging by his latest ex …”

Marinette tries not to react. Tries not to let show how her heart makes another jump, how her stomach flips.

“Latest,” Luka repeats, and she has never felt more grateful for his bluntness. “As in, recently broke up?”

Adrien rolls his eyes, and it’s barely visible in the night’s shadows, but she thinks she can see a shimmer of pink on his cheeks. “Three weeks ago.”

“Sorry,” says Luka. “Breakups always suck.”

With a hum, Nino sways his beer from left to right. “True enough. Not like they were havin’ one crisis after another for months.”

“Look.” Adrien sighs. “Sometimes it’s just not meant to be.”

“Exactly what your second girlfriend told you too.”

“Come on, man.” Adrien sighs again.

Second girlfriend, third girlfriend, fourth, fifth – how many girls had a chance before her? Too many? Way too many?

Marinette sips her gin tonic.

“Anyway. More pleasant topics, please.” A nudge at her arm, and she almost can’t believe that Adrien seems to take interest in her – that he looks at her with that sweet smile that never changed, and that he is trying not to talk about his ex-girlfriends next to her – which doesn’t have to mean anything. Stupid her, of course it doesn’t mean anything, and still she can’t help but smile back. “Like, how are you doing, Marinette? How is uni treating you?”

“No uni there. I took an apprenticeship after school.” She shrugs. “The fashion business is tough, as you might know. Took me two years to find a place that even pays me.”

“And you’re still working way too hard.” Luka shoots her a look. “Like I said. You’re always welcome to be our band manager.”

She returns his look with a laugh. “And earn two euros per hour? Yeah, right. Doesn’t pay my bills either.”

Humming lowly, Adrien squints his eyes at her. “Maybe I can help you out? I’ve got some connections, and I remember your designs being really creative, so …”

“Uh.” She tries her best not to let her drink drop, but her smile falls nevertheless. “That’s – I mean, you don’t have to – that’s very –”

“You know what? I know what I could do.” Adrien’s smile only grows, and she finds herself unable to move. “You still have my number, right? Send me some of your designs, and I’ll make sure to pass them on. Get your name out there. I know enough designers who’d appreciate some fresh air.”

She tries to think of an appropriate answer that preferably doesn’t involve crying out of gratitude, and she finds none. Instead, she can only nod hesitantly.

“There you go, a knight in shining armor!” Nino pats his friend’s back. “A good soul, aren’t ya?”

His smile turning shy, Adrien shrugs. “Trying my best.”

Luka watched the exchange, and when he raises an eyebrow at Marinette, she can only return the action questioningly. Seconds pass until Luka turns to Adrien again. “How about you? Getting ready to take over the family business?”

There’s something odd to Luka’s words, and Adrien seems to think so too, the corners of his mouth twitching for a split second. “I actually am. I’m attending a business school right now.”

“Rich people gotta keep richin’,” Nino mutters underneath two coughs.

“Ha ha.” Adrien lightly shoves Nino’s shoulder. “Maybe you should focus on your studies instead of being a super hip and cool DJ.”

“Hey. There are a lot of famous French DJs, and I’m planning on becoming one of ‘em, okay?”

“It’s always important to keep dreaming.” With a nod, Luka sips his drink.

“That sounded somehow condescending, dude.”

“It did? Sorry.”

“Now that was sarcasm. Awesome.”

She can’t help it. She can’t stop watching Adrien. How the late evening’s lights flicker over his face. How his eyes haven’t changed, carrying the same warmth they always did. How her fingers tickle to touch him, how the thought of being close to him makes her heart bounce in her chest. This shouldn’t happen. She knows it shouldn’t. It has been years. It has been dates with men that never meant much to her. It has been attempts at building something that was doomed to fail from the start. It has been too long.

She takes a sip from her drink and hopes for fleeting feelings to disappear once again.

It’s getting late. People are either tired, or they are way too awake to care. A chilly breeze travels over her skin, plays with strands of hair. Marinette is sipping water now. No use in getting drunk out of her mind. Her arms resting on the railing, she overlooks Paris. Thinks of times she could jump over rooftops. Thinks of the moment Chat Noir and she managed to do it. Fulfilling their mission. No Hawk Moth anymore, and no reason to keep their kwamis.

Her heart aches.

Steps next to her. At first, she thinks Luka has joined her. But when she turns her head, a warm smile greets her. A smile that makes a hot feeling pool in her stomach. She hopes he can’t see the blush forming on her cheeks, and quickly, her eyes capture the view before her again.

“Not the biggest party animal?” Adrien asks.

She shrugs. Wills her tongue not to trip over itself. “Sometimes. Not tonight, I guess.”

A second of silence. “Do you need some alone time?”

“Huh?” She turns her head to him again. A mistake. Because suddenly, her heart can’t stop heavily beating in her chest. Almost painfully so. “No. No, no curries. Worries! You’re welcomly perfect. Uh, perfectly welcome to join me, is what I mean.”

He watches her. She resists the urge to fidget under his eyes.

“Thanks,” he eventually says, amusement dripping from his voice, “for having me, then. What are you doing here? Watching over Paris?”

Her eyes twitch to overlook the scenery, to watch the dark sky. Almost no stars at all. The city swallows any tiny light, and all that is left are the night’s shadows lurking around corners. Sometimes she can’t sleep, and sometimes she wishes for green eyes to give her the warmth she misses, and their last moment is forever etched into her mind. But there is no use in crying over things long lost, and she hums in response.

“Maybe I am. Shouldn’t you be in there?”

She doesn’t dare look at him again. Out from the corners of her eyes, she can see him move, his elbows coming to rest on the railing too. Close to her. Too close.

“I kind of missed you,” he says. “So I thought, why not do some catching up?”

He missed her. He did. Releasing a shivering breath, she leans forward, doing her best not to stare at him. Her heart is beating like crazy, and that’s just nonsense – that no other man could do the same to her. That no other man made her feel like she does now, even after years of thinking she has let go of him.

Why him? Why Adrien? Why no one else?

It’s not like she doesn’t know the answer.

“Nothing too new here, I guess,” she says slowly, thinking about every word she utters, mulling it over in her head until it turns to sluggish mush. “Just trying to come by. Working as hard as I can. Who knows if I’ll ever have my own label, but …” With a shrug, she shows a slight smile. “I can keep dreaming, right?”

“It’s good to have dreams,” Adrien eventually says. “And honestly? I think you’ll be able to do it.”

She can’t help but laugh. “Do you?”

“I do. I remember how brave you are. How determined. I’m sure you can do it.”

Her heart makes a jump. Only slowly, she looks at him again. Their eyes meet. There is something too serious about his expression, and there is something too desperate about this moment. They are too close. She can’t breathe. She bites her tongue. She waits, and stares at him, and recognizes so much about him and so little, but one thing stayed the same – there is something about him she can’t let go of, something she can’t name, and she is captured, trapped once again.

“So,” he continues. “I’d be honored to help you out. If you let me.”

“Honored,” she repeats.

“More than honored. Humbled.”

She can’t help but laugh. “Deeply touched, maybe?”

“Entirely perplexed.”

“Surprised?”

“That, too.”

She returns his grin. “Thank you. Really.”

“Nothing to thank me for yet.” His elbow touches hers lightly, and her whole world seems to stop at once. “I bet you’ll forget about me once you are famous anyway. You’ll be too important to care about the little people.”

“I’d never forget about you,” she replies too fast, too sincerely.

His grin twitches. His eyes travel over her face too hastily. When he turns away, she almost thinks there is a blush creeping up his cheeks. Their elbows keep touching. She cringes internally again and again, but wills herself not to move away. It’s just the same, and it’s entirely different. Seconds tick by. Her heart keeps beating.

“I mean,” she tries. “Just – you know. Because you are the lamous one here – famous, oh god. I meant famous. You are – you see – yeah.”

He clears his throat. “That’s … Well. Not that I did much to become famous.”

She hesitates. Before them, the night lives on. But there’s nothing left to lose except the only chance she might get.

“That’s something I always admired about you. How down to earth you are despite your status.”

Her heart keeps beating loudly.

A short laugh. “You admired me? There’s nothing much to admire about me.”

Something clenches inside her chest. This isn’t what Adrien should think of himself. This isn’t who he is, but before she can tell him so, he goes on, his voice carrying the same levity as before.

“Except for my fashion sense, I guess. I’m telling you, wine-red patterns are the new black.”

It takes her a second to get it, and with a groan, she sinks into herself. “I’m still so sorry. Oh god.”

“Too surprised to see me, huh?”

“Please stop.”

“I think I’ll call the collection ‘Marinette, unadulterated’.”

“That’s not funny!”

“I didn’t try to be funny. I’m completely serious.”

Despite herself, she has to laugh. Something about this night gives her a kind of bravery she only knows from her days as this city’s protector. So she looks at him.

“Sorry about your ex-girlfriend, though. I hope you didn’t name a collection after her.”

He stays silent for a while. Doesn’t look at her. His eyes carry a haunted shimmer, and when he speaks again, his voice seems quieter than before. “I didn’t.”

“I’m … I’m sorry. It’s none of my willness. Business. My business. Sorry.”

“We were about to move in together.”

It doesn’t hurt. It really doesn’t. How many years must they have been together to think about such a decision? What would have been the next step? A ring, a family, the love of his life, the one he’d swear to be together with forever? Did he want it? Did he break it off? Did she? If so, does she regret it? If so, will they get back together someday, resuming the perfection that was their relationship?

What difference would it make to know the answers?

“I’m sorry,” is all that will leave her lips.

“No. Sorry, I shouldn’t …” He sighs deeply. “Over and done with. That’s how life goes, right?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in a relationship.”

This time, the silence seems stunned, and she instantly regrets her words. They tumbled out of her mouth without control. Because contrary to him, she never had the chance for forever, for such a close bond. Seconds stretch endlessly. She wants to run away, wants to stay where she is. Wants to stay in this moment forever, and yet it’s not enough.

“That’s,” he eventually says. “That’s – huh.”

With a tiny sound, she buries her face in her hands. “I didn’t mean to say that. I mean – it’s not like – I’m not ashamed, just …”

“Well, you shouldn’t be. You’re someone special, after all. You deserve someone just as special too.”

She tries to understand what he is saying. She tries not to read too much into it. She tries her best to keep a level head, feels her breath on her palms, warm and damp. Tries to find a response, tries to search for words, finds nothing.

“So, no luck in finding someone special, huh?” he goes on, sounding a bit too tired, a bit too resigned.

“Doesn’t seem so,” she mumbles.

“Honestly, I always imagined you in a perfect relationship. Someone successful, someone kind … And I guess that type of man is hard to come by.”

That kind of man is right next to her, she wants to say. Instead, the words get stuck behind her tongue, rumble in her stomach, and she only hesitantly lifts her head again, looking at anything but him. The truth must be written all over her face. Her cheeks are hot, and she keeps asking herself what all of this means, what it could mean, what it should mean.

“I bet you’ll find someone,” he says. “Pretty soon, too.”

The smile on her face hurts. “Same goes for you.”

“I don’t know. Relationships can be a pain in the ass, I learned.”

She turns to look at him. Something about his words sounded amused, and something about his expression seems crushed and broken. A breath leaves her lips, light as a feather.

“If it helps, I always imagined you in a perfect relationship too. So …”

He snorts. “I don’t know. I don’t know how smart it is to keep believing that there is something like a perfect relationship for me. Maybe some people are meant to be alone.”

His words leave stinging silence. She worries her lower lip between her teeth, holds herself back from reaching for his arm. Instead, she looks at Paris’ nightly lights again.

“Call me corny, but I think there’s someone out there for everyone. Maybe you just haven’t met the right one yet.”

A sigh. “Yeah. I – sorry. I guess I’m just, I don’t know … Disappointed?”

“Understandably so, I’d say.”

“She was someone special, after all.”

She doesn’t want to hear it. She wants to turn away, and she can’t. No answer comes to mind, nothing she can say could make her heart ache less.

“Anyway,” he continues, smacking his palms against the railing, shining eyes fastening onto her. “Enough pessimism. I was serious about my offer. I could pass your name around, if you’d like.”

She blinks at him. “I – well, I mean, that would be cornerful. Ponderful. Wonderful!”

A grin appears on his lips. “And with that charm of yours, you’ll wrap them around your little finger with ease.”

“Charm,” she repeats, feeling her face grow hot. “I don’t – there is no – what?”

“Exactly.” He pokes her shoulder, and with a little sound, she backs away.

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“Yep, there you go.”

“I don’t – are you making fun of me?”

He smiles. It’s enough to make her whole body tingle. “Maybe.”

“Funny,” she mumbles too quietly, too strained, she looks away again.

The waxing moon is shining down as Marinette leans forward. Her heart is pounding, and Adrien’s face is closer than it has been for years, and their cheeks touch. It should be a friendly gesture, and she feels her fingers tremble as he leans to the other side, as the smell of his hair reaches her nose, as she tries to keep her breathing even. His hand on her shoulder burns. Her stomach turns upside down.

“Don’t forget to text me,” he says to no one else but her, with a tone that is only reserved for her. She can’t even nod. She can only give him a half-smile like the idiot that she is. And when he smiles back, she almost melts into a poodle of nothingness.

Nino waves at them as they leave. There are seconds of silence, and she does her best not to let her thoughts show.

“What a surprise,” Luka says.

“A small world for sure,” she replies.

“You know,” he turns, nodding at her to follow him, “I was jealous of Adrien for a long time.”

“What? What for?”

It’s a bit chilly, a bit too cold for a late summer night. She crosses her arms to give herself a bit of warmth. Groups of people pass them by, laughing mindlessly or staring tiredly. Paris never sleeps. She got to know as much in her time as Ladybug, and she never forgot.

Luka looks at her. There’s a sparkle in his eyes she can’t quite place. “For a good reason.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Better that way.”

“What? What do you mean? Was it something petty? I won’t judge you. I promise.”

“Something petty,” he repeats. “Something pretty, rather.”

“You think he’s pretty?”

Luka laughs.

For him, there was Marie, and then there was Anais, and not for the first time she wonders why there was no one for her.

“I can’t text him yet.”

“Why?”

“Because it hasn’t even been twelve hours!”

Alya sighs, looking up from her laptop. “Ah. The waiting game. Gotcha.”

“It’s not – it’s not a game.” With a groan, Marinette leans her head back until it almost bends over the sofa’s backrest, granting her a view of that one plant that has been neglected for weeks. Because no matter how much they tried to care for it, its leaves turned brown and its branches started to hang low. Too much water, or not enough, or not enough sunlight, or whatever – they stopped caring. “But look, I can’t be too eager, now can I?”

A long pause. “You said he talked about his ex with you?”

“Well, for – I don’t know – no more than five minutes.”

“Forget him.”

Seconds pass. Alya keeps typing. The truth hurts. She feels it in her limbs, feels it in her throat. “He seemed like he is over her.”

“That’s exactly why he talked about her with you. Because he’s totally over her.”

It becomes silent again. The sun is shining through the window, illuminating one single spot on the floor. A stretched rectangle in a bright yellow. If she were to touch it, her hand would be engulfed in warmth.

“He’s single now.”

This time, Alya keeps silent for a longer time. Her voice echoes through the room as she closes her laptop, turning to Marinette fully. “Listen, girl. I’m on your side. I’d kill for you and you know it. That’s how tight we are.”

“Doesn’t sound scary at all.”

“That’s why I’m telling you. This isn’t a good idea.” A rustling sound as Alya moves closer. “Look. We aren’t thirteen anymore. The one thing I can’t advise you to do is wasting your time. But,” some more rustling until Alya’s arm presses against Marinette’s, until a wave of hair hits her cheek, until Alya’s voice is right next to her. “I can’t tell you what to do either. You’re gonna do what you want, no matter what I tell you.”

Marinette snorts.

“You know how I know?” She grins. “Because when Nino broke up with me, you told me to forget about him for weeks.”

“And you didn’t,” Marinette mumbles.

“And I didn’t. Did it help?”

“Those were dark times.”

“Until I met Luna.”

“I liked Luna.”

“Me too. She had great tits.”

“Oh my god, Alya.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

Despite all, Marinette has to laugh, and she rolls over until she can bury her face on Alya’s chest. “I don’t get it. Why I had to meet him again. I was done with him.”

“Were you?”

“Totally.”

“Totally, yeah.” Alya wraps her arms around her, soft hair tickling her skin. “I think you wanna text him. So text him.”

“It’s not smart,” Marinette mutters.

“Texting him at all isn’t smart, so who cares?”

She grabs her phone. Holds it in front of her face. Searches for Adrien’s number. Sees his profile picture. She stares at it. Like she did time and time again. She wastes seconds, and maybe she could waste minutes, hours, days. Her head is screaming, and her heart is too. Nothing makes him special, and everything does. She needs three attempts to fabricate an acceptable message, reads it over five times to make sure she didn’t miss a typo. Her stomach is doing flips when she sends it.

“I did it,” she breathes.

“Good job. You know how a phone works.”

She hits Alya’s arm lightly. “He was online two hours ago.”

“Well. Nothing else to do than to wait.”

She is so nervous she could throw up. If he texts back right away, what could it mean? If he doesn’t, what could it mean? Is he waiting like she is? Is he busy? Is she bothering him? Is she coming across as clingy? She quickly locks her display and puts the phone back onto the armrest. Together with Alya, she stares at nothing.

“Nino asked about you,” she says. “And he is stalking you on Instagram.”

“I know. He accidentally liked some pics and thought I wouldn’t notice.”

“So?”

Alya lets her chin rest on the top of Marinette’s head. “So?”

“You know.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“Maybe I do. A tiny little bit. Shut up.”

Marinette makes a zipping motion.

Her phone vibrates. Her heart makes a jump. She is reaching for it faster than she anticipated herself, and she quickly unlocks the display.

“Just an e-mail,” she mutters.

“Oh god,” Alya sighs.

“Oh god, what?”

“Oh god, this is gonna be a ride. But no worries. We’ve got red wine and we’ve got croissants. And ice cream.”

“You’re making it sound – well, he was nice to me.”

“Nino was nice to me too,” Alya whispers, “right before he dumped me, you know.”

“So don’t trust men ever again?”

A long second of silence. Goosebumps rise on Marinette’s skin.

“Don’t trust people who are going to hurt you,” Alya says.

It’s nothing. It’s early, and the sun is shining down at Marinette as she holds her cup of coffee in both hands. Her heart is pounding. Of course it is. There is someone next to her, someone too gorgeous to properly look at, and she doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to ask – is this a date? Or is it not? The uncertainty is driving her crazy, and she stays silent.

“I really like your designs,” Adrien says. Next to them, the Seine gurgles on, a rhythmic murmur of waves. “They changed a bit, didn’t they? Your older designs seemed a bit, I don’t know … Playful?”

She stares at her coffee. “You think?”

“I do. But I mean it in a good way. Like I said, I like it. And Antoine does too.”

“Your associate.”

“Yeah. You have a lot of potential, he said.”

She ducks her head. Dares look at him. He isn’t looking at her. His eyes are blue as the sky. She’d like to drown in them. She’d like to lean into him, to have him wrap his arm around her shoulder. There is some polite distance between them as they walk. She doesn’t bridge it.

“That’s … surprising. Thanks for memorending me. Uh, recondemning. Recommending!”

“Not surprising at all. I know you’d end up as someone important.”

Her cheeks turn hot. Does he really think so? It sounds too good to be true. She bites her lip. The coffee between her hands is getting cold, and she can’t get herself to take a sip. He paid, because of course he did. He paid, and she stood next to him, whole body turning warm despite the chilly breeze hitting her.

“I hope,” she says, nothing else coming to her mind, “it won’t hurt too much. Seeing her at that event next week.”

She raises her shoulders. She should stop talking about his ex. He should stop mentioning his ex. Alya’s words echo on and on: forget him. Forget him. You can’t be in someone’s heart when it’s still occupied. So, forget him. She tries. She tries so hard.

“Oh, it won’t,” he replies. “It’s been some weeks, after all.”

Right. That’s just right.

“Thanks, though. That’s really sweet of you. To care that much.”

There’s something odd to his tone. She looks up. This time, it seems that he is deliberately looking away. As if he can’t face her. As if she’d discover something in his eyes he doesn’t want her to. Not yet? Her heart is beating like crazy. She takes a sip of her coffee. A bit bitter, a bit sweet. Just for a second, she allows herself to wonder how his lips would taste. All sweet. All bitter. She doesn’t know.

They arrive at the metro’s entrance. People pass them by as they come to a halt. Adrien turns to her, looks at her. Eyes meeting. There’s a shimmer in there, something she can’t place. Something she wants to grab and never let go. Her cup is empty, and her fingers cramp around it.

“Thanks for today,” he says.

“No. Thank you,” she responds, voice trembling.

He is taller than her. He is handsome, and his smile is made of pure gold. She looks at his lips, looks at his eyes. She waits. Waits for something. Waits for anything. Waits until he opens his arms in an inviting gesture, and when they wrap around her, it feels like she is in a dream. He smells incredible, feels warm and soft, and she could cry on the spot. Something her younger self always dreamed of. And if he were to kiss her –

Soft lips on her cheek. Just a bit of distance to bridge until she could finally do what she always wanted to do. But then he leans away again, and she is left in coldness, the cup of coffee still in her hands.

“Get home safely,” he says.

She nods.

As she is waiting for the metro, she throws her cup into the garbage. She sees herself in the reflection of a display window. Her cheeks are glowing. Her eyes look sad.

“He didn’t text me for three days.”

Alya keeps chewing. Something about her expression seems pitying. Marinette isn’t sure if she likes it. “Girl. Again, there’s only one piece of advice I could give you.”

“Forget him?”

“Well. You know what you deserve? A man who’s all over you. Who’s nervous enough to text you two hours after your date.”

Marinette looks down at her pasta and starts to poke noodles with her fork. “I’m not sure it was a date. He never said so. I never said so either.”

“Oh, come on. Getting a cup of coffee he paid for? Doing nothing but talk? Of course it’s a freaking date.”

“Is not texting me part of a date?”

Alya sighs. “Or maybe he wants you to break gender stereotypes. Text him first! Who cares. Maybe he _is_ nervous, and he’s waiting for you to give him a nudge. The ball is in your court, or something.”

Marinette grimaces. Almost laughs. Just almost. Quite frankly, it hurts too much. “I think I’ll text him.”

“We have enough red wine, so go ahead.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Alya grins. Her smile falls just as quickly. “I’m just looking out for you. You know that, right?”

“And I’m being stupid.”

“We’ve all been there, sweetheart.”

“You are not denying it.”

Alya laughs and keeps eating.

They’ll have to clean the place soon. There’s a layer of dust settling on one of the shelves, there are crumbs scattered over the floor. Marinette scratches her ankle with her other foot. She isn’t hungry. Not right now. Years ago, there were pictures of Nino and Alya all over the place.

“I still don’t get it,” she whispers.

“What?”

“Why Nino was stupid enough to let you go.”

Alya snorts. “That’s sweet.”

“I mean it. You were happy, weren’t you?”

Alya chews for longer than necessary, staring at her own plate. Something inside Marinette freezes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to –”

“He wanted to see more of the world. Guess I wasn’t giving him the freedom he needed.”

Marinette stays silent.

“You know what he said when he dumped me? That he loves me, but that he needs more. But I’m not bitter about it. It’s been some time, after all.”

“So two people can be made for each other, and they still don’t make it?”

“Wrong place, wrong time, hun. That’s what they call it. I call it stupidity. Or, I don’t know. Necessity. Maybe we would have ended up with kids and a house, and he’d have started cheating on me with some bimbo from his working place.”

“You think so?”

“I like to tell myself so. In truth, I can’t control what others do. No matter what I feel for them.”

It gets quiet. There’s something Marinette never experienced: heartbreak. There was no one to break her heart, after all. Nobody like Adrien. She doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not. What she would have learned otherwise.

She is unscarred. Easily breakable. Afraid.

His responds come sporadically. There’s a day she tried to forget about, a day that won’t leave her mind – Friday night, because all good things happen on Friday nights, because mistakes are made so much easier. She wishes she had something to drink, but then again, Luka knows her too well.

“You could destroy me in Smash Bros.,” he tells her.

With a snort, she looks away from her window. “That’s no fun.”

“Because?”

“Because, like you said, the only outcome is: I defeat you. Kinda boring, don’t you think?”

“Harsh.”

“Well, you said it first!”

Luka grins and pats the cushion next to him. With a little sigh, Marinette follows the gesture. He stares at the TV remote, pushes buttons until he manages to put on a Netflix show. Marinette’s phone rests on the table in front of them. She does her best not to stare at it too hard.

Her stomach is in knots. She feels like throwing up. No use in thinking about it, though. No use in wasting too much time on this.

“Boy troubles,” Luka concludes.

“What?”

“I recognize that look.”

“What look?”

“The same one you liked to show that often when you were still in love with Adrien.” He gives her a look. She doesn’t know if it’s meant to be sympathetic or probing. “Guess some things are hard to get over.”

“I – well, I – he’s at an event, and his ex is there too.”

Luka nods. Marinette tries not to die in embarrassment. She’s sounding ridiculous. Pitiful. She shouldn’t sound pitiful. She should sound sure of him, and she doesn’t. Instead, her stomach is churning, her eyes feel watery, and her hands are fidgeting. It’s all she’s got left.

“So?” Luka says.

“So – I just – I can’t shake the feeling that – you know.”

“That?”

“Oh my god,” she groans. “Stop. You know what I mean.”

“That he’ll have some reconciliation with her?”

She can’t even nod. Hearing it out loud hurts too much.

“You’re so sure of him that you think he’ll do that? Stop seeing you, get back together with his ex?”

“Who knows?” she mumbles.

Luka laughs. It’s an odd sound, and there’s something too bitter about it. “Didn’t even text you, did he?”

She shrinks into herself. “No.”

“Idiot.”

“What?”

“Idiot. He’s an idiot. But you know that too, right?”

She does. She does? She doesn’t know. He isn’t. She is the idiot here. She can’t name why, but she knows she is. Being miserable, and waiting, and trying to appear nonchalant when really, she isn’t – she’s the only idiot here.

“Sorry. Not my place to say anything.” Luka shrugs, looking at the TV instead of her. Some show has started playing, something that doesn’t seem remotely interesting. Beautiful actors and actresses, beautiful scenery, beautiful words. It all seems so perfect. More perfect than her tiny crumbling world could ever be. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

She smiles shakily. “That I’m being that naïve?”

“That he’s being that much of a douche.”

“He isn’t – I don’t think he’s … You know.”

“I know.”

She doesn’t know what there’s left to say. If there is anything left to say.

Silently, they keep watching.

She knows this is an important party for Adrien. It was kind of odd for him to invite her too. To make it sound like another date. Because now, she is standing near the wall, swirling her champagne around. Clockwise, then the other way. She doesn’t like champagne, not really. She likes red wine, but only if there’s company around. Champagne on the other hand is becoming something lonely.

Adrien knows how to work a room. No wonder. He laughs and talks, looks absolutely gorgeous in his suit. Marinette knows she looks pretty, but she doesn’t have the same charisma as Adrien does. A wallflower. Maybe she likes being a wallflower. Maybe a wallflower and someone like Adrien don’t belong together. She would wither next to him. Maybe. Or maybe not.

He sends a quick look in her direction and smiles. She smiles back, even though it feels fake and wrong on her face.

He should have time for her, right? He should.

But she isn’t clingy. She can entertain herself. She can talk to people just fine. She takes a sip of her drink. Looks at her phone. Nobody texted her. She sighs. It’s not late enough to excuse herself. She could have been more productive at home. But this is Adrien. Adrien, who invited her. Adrien, who seemed just a little bit excited to have her here.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe she is overthinking everything.

(Maybe Alya is right – maybe she deserves better.)

She talks to some people she never heard of. All of them part of the fashion business. It’s not that bad, she decides after some time. People give her some tips she never heard before, and she even gets to know one or two important figures. Adrien isn’t by her side, but that’s okay. He has stuff to do, she tells herself. He has a lot to do, she tells herself. Nothing to worry. Nothing to overthink.

“I heard Adrien Agreste himself brought you here,” a middle-aged man next to her says in the middle of their conversation.

Marinette smiles. Smiling becomes easy after a while, no matter how she feels inside. “He did.”

“Not the first one he brings along.” The man laughs. “But, and don’t tell him this, the first woman with quite the natural charm. You’re a lucky one, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t understand. Not really. Maybe it’s supposed to be a compliment, or maybe it isn’t. She should feel lucky. She is lucky. Lucky to have been noticed by someone like Adrien, even if it’s just for a short while. Even if it happened after years and years and years of dreaming about him. Because dreams do come true. If you believe in them hard enough, they do.

It’s great. It’s great the way it is. Everything will be all right.

So she smiles.

“I guess I am.”

In the background, she sees Adrien. His hasty steps as he slips onto the balcony. She can’t help but look after him. With a faint smile, she excuses herself from the conversation and follows Adrien. She feels oddly reminded of Pierre’s party, squeezing through the mass of people, afraid to lose him any moment.

Afraid to lose him.

The nights are getting colder, she realizes as she enters the balcony. No one is there but Adrien. Blonde hair in the moonlight. Her stomach drops. Her glass is still half-full, and she comes to a halt next to him. Together, they lean over the railing.

“Trying to run from me, were you?” She meant it as a joke. It leaves her lips in a croak.

“No. No, sorry.” Adrien sighs. “Sorry. I had to talk to way too many people. Should have thought so.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m a bit drunk.”

“Okay.”

“Just – sorry. That’s impolite as hell. Inviting you here, getting drunk, and leaving you on your own. I think I underestimated how much time it takes to talk to that many people.”

She doesn’t agree out loud.

“But I’m really glad you’re here, Marinette.”

Her name drips from his lips like honey, and she is unable to catch just one drop.

“Really. I’m really glad. I forgot how incredible you are. How you can stand me without complaining once.”

“Everyone can stand you,” she replies automatically, too quickly to think about a more appropriate answer.

“Getting dumped three times – makes you think that no girl can ever stand you.”

She stays silent. Doesn’t look at him.

“Sorry. Not that you – not like that.”

She stays silent.

“I mean …”

She should move away. She can’t.

“It isn’t …” With a laugh, he buries a hand in his hair. “Gosh, sorry. I’m kind of a mess.”

She doesn’t care. He could be the greatest mess on this planet, and he would still be Adrien. She doesn’t know how to tell him just that. She doesn’t know how to make him understand. She could say it with words, and she’d never get across what she really feels. Because it feels just right. Because no one else made her feel like he does.

“Maybe you need a glass of water,” she whispers instead.

“Maybe. Remind me not to drink that much.”

“Not sure if that would help, but okay.”

He blinks at her, a little gorgeous smile on his lips. “Did you just tease me? You, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, teased me?”

Something hot pools in her stomach. “Yes? No? I don’t know?”

Another laugh, and this time, his eyes won’t let go of hers. “I really like you, you know.”

She wants to close her eyes, but she can’t. She pictured this moment thousands of times, and something is still wrong. She is happy. She should be happy. She should let herself be happy. She should hope. She hopes. She hopes and takes a step closer. She doesn’t know if that’s the expression she always hoped to see. But there is nothing left than this, and it’s all she gets. A stupid party, and he left her alone all evening. Still. Still, he is looking at her, and she is looking at him, and her heart is still pounding. Screaming for her to be happy. Screaming for her to smile at him. Her body reacts faster than she does, and she brushes strands of hair behind her ear as she replies.

“I really like you too.”

Years after years after years, dreaming on and on about such a moment, and when he steps closer to her, it’s anything but a surprise. It’s predestined. It’s a natural consequence. It makes sense. It makes sense for him to lean down to her, to put a warm hand on her arm. It makes sense for him to kiss her. It makes sense for their lips to meet for a tiny moment. It makes sense for her to lean into him, to chase after warmth. She pictured it a million times, and it makes her heart explode and her stomach flip and something in the darkest corners of her mind ask, that’s it?

That’s it?

But it’s Adrien, and he is kissing her, and it’s all that matters. Even if his lips taste like champagne and even though something is warning her. Again and again, a tiny voice, until Adrien leans back, hand still on her naked skin.

“Thanks for being here,” he says.

He could have said a thousand things.

“Thanks for having me,” she whispers back.

She could have told him the truth.

Staring at her phone, autumn is arriving, leaves dancing in front of her; still staring at her phone, Marinette starts to wonder. She is happy. She is happy. She knows she is. Adrien kissed her, and it has to mean something. A kiss is a kiss. A kiss could mean nothing. But he told her so many sweet things, and it can’t be just nothing. Words are heavy. Words are easily uttered. She stares at her phone, and he is online, and he doesn’t text her. She locks the display, closes her eyes. Puts the phone against her forehead. Stupid, stupid. This is just stupid.

She is just stupid.

But she can’t be clingy. She can’t be anything but perfect. Because this is Adrien. This is Adrien.

“Red wine?” Alya asks behind her.

“Not yet.”

She can feel the pitying look, and somehow she wants to scream. She doesn’t.

So close, close enough to taste, close enough to just lean forward – and every time she does, it slips away again.

She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t cry.

“Not yet,” Alya repeats. “Girl. That’s just – you know that Tinder exists for a reason.”

Marinette snorts. “Are you suggesting I should distract myself on Tinder?”

“Well, I mean, how would you know he’s not doing the same?”

A long second of silence.

“Marinette … Sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“He’s an idiot, honestly.”

“You’re not the first one to say that.”

“See? There you have your confirmation.”

It should be funny, but frankly, it’s sad. It’s just too sad. So Marinette gives a tiny laugh.

“Be glad I didn’t drag Alya along.”

Nino laughs. “Would have no problem with that, dude.”

“Sure? She wouldn’t either.”

There’s something odd to Nino’s look. But it’s gone faster than she can blink, and all that is left is a grin, too broad for words like his. “She’s happy, and it’s all that matters.”

It should be.

She didn’t know this bar before. It’s a bit too loud, a bit too crowded, and there are too many faces she doesn’t recognize around her. Adrien is at the other end of the table. She longs to be next to him, sending him looks that go unnoticed. It doesn’t hurt.

(It hurts too much.)

She sips her wine carefully. No point in getting drunk; there never was. She talks about things she has no interest in, smiles and laughs to make Adrien see that she could belong here. Maybe all of this is just a stupid test, and there is, stupidly trying to pass. Their eyes never meet though, and she is sure she has done something wrong as the evening gets later.

That she is not enough. That she will never be enough.

It’s after midnight when Adrien stands up from his seat and approaches her. He didn’t look at her all evening. His voice sounds somehow pressed when he leans closer to her. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest. “Can we talk for a moment?” he asks.

“Sure,” she replies.

There is nothing to worry about. He kissed her, and he told her how much he likes her, and when they arrive outside, wind sweeps through her hair. She crosses her arms to give herself a bit of warmth. There is a bench outside the bar right underneath an oak tree, and Adrien nods at her to sit down next to him.

She does.

Silently, they wait. She waits for something to happen. For the shoe to drop. For the night to end. For her to wake her up. Too good to be true. Too painful to be the end. She can’t look at him, but she feels it – feels the hesitation. Feels a ping of fear.

He shifts a bit. Then he sighs. “This won’t be easy.”

She freezes. Almost laughs. Almost. There it is. There’s the waking-up.

“Oh,” she responds.

There. Stupid. Stupid her. She can’t look at him. She stares at her shoes. Ankle boots. Cute ones. She chose them for him. Liked how she looked in the mirror. He didn’t even look at her for more than a few seconds. She wants to grin. She can’t. She can only stare.

“Where should I start …”

“At the beginning,” she whispers.

“Right. You know that my ex dumped me not that long ago.”

She nods.

“And I – there’s some personal stuff I need to work through.”

She nods.

“And I’m not sure – you believe in – you want – I know that you want something serious.”

His voice cracks. She cracks a smile. Stares at her boots.

“And I’m not sure what I want.”

She keeps smiling.

“It’s not like – I was drunk, but I really wanted to kiss you.”

She keeps smiling.

“I’m just not sure I can give you what you want, Marinette.”

Of course.

“I’m not even sure what I want. I’m not sure if I’m ready to commit again, after that – after what happened. And I’m not sure if that’s good for you. Well, no, I’m pretty sure it’s not good for you. But I like you, and – I don’t know.”

She doesn’t either.

“You understand?”

She does.

“Please say something.”

But she can’t. Because any word could have drawn tears from her eyes. Her throat feels too tight for words. She is glad she can still breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette.”

“So,” she croaks, staring at her hands, staring at anything but him. “So, we shouldn’t – we should stop seeing each other?”

“No, that’s not – I do like you. I really do.”

Stop.

“I … But it’s your choice. Knowing what I told you right now, it’s your choice.”

He should be sure of her. He should long for her as much as she longs for him. She deserves to be longed for. She deserves certainty. She deserves endless adoration. She knows she does, somewhere she knows, and still.

Still, this is Adrien. No one else but Adrien.

It’s always been him. She is sure. She is so sure.

She slowly looks up. Meets his eyes. Feels tears sting in hers, and she smiles. “Of course I want to keep seeing you. I want to – I can’t just let go of you.”

Adrien’s green eyes capture her. He looks worried, so genuinely worried, and she doesn’t understand. She just doesn’t.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, sounding so helpless.

She wipes over her eyes. “I’m not crying.” A dry laugh escapes her. “I’m just getting the horrible feeling that this is over.”

“Marinette. I – I can’t promise you anything.”

Of course he can’t. She laughs again and hides her face behind her hands. She isn’t going to cry. Not in front of him. She can’t. She should go and walk away, walk as fast as she can. Run. Run for dear life. This is Adrien, sure, but somewhere out there, there must be another one. Another guy who can make her laugh. A guy who can make her happy. Someone who is sure of her, certain that she is the one.

There must be.

Maybe there isn’t.

“Marinette,” he says again, her name on his lips, her name on his damn lips, and she turns to him and grabs his collar and captures his mouth in a rough kiss.

There’s nothing else to do, nothing else to say.

She needs to drag it out. She needs more time. More chances for him to see her. To see _her_. It’s slipping away through cramped fingers. But as her thumb is hovering over the phone’s keyboard, she is unable to verbalize it. Verbalize anything. Uselessly, she stares at the display. What should she have said anyway?

His words echo in her ears.

_I don’t want to hurt you._

_I care too much about you._

_I wish I could give you more._

_I wouldn’t blame you if you walked away._

_But it’s nice, you know? It’s nice to know an incredible girl like yourself finds something in me._

Words are easy. Words are far too easy. Her fingers are trembling. She bites her lower lip. Tries not to cry. It’s getting late. She laughs so much when she’s with him. She feels so much. It must be enough.

She sends a photo of the place she’s at. Sunshine and a clear sky. He doesn’t text back right away, even though his status reads online. That’s a bit funny. Marinette doesn’t laugh. Birds chirp in the distance, people pass her by, and she’s on her own.

It doesn’t seem like anything ever changed. Somehow it doesn’t.

Nights were reserved for Paris. For Chat and her. She knows what it feels like to be wanted. She knows about unwanted attention, even. She wishes she would have given Chat just one sign of appreciation – just one kiss. Just one chance. Or it would have torn him apart like her.

She just wishes she could talk to him.

Instead it’s night, and it’s lonely. People pass her by. When Luka arrives, he carries two bottles of beer. The only brand she can drink without gagging right away. He kisses her cheek, and he opens her bottle for her, and she leans her face against his shoulder.

“I hate it.”

“That whole Adrien thing?”

“Yeah.”

Luka nods.

“As a man – be honest – as a man, what do you say I should do?”

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Of course.”

“Forget him.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her beer. “But I like him.”

“I know you do. And you have a choice. And it could end up with him choosing you.”

“Sounds like I have to win some competition.”

“Well. Winning him over is part of it.”

“Why do I have to do that? Why do I have to win him over?”

“Because he can’t see what a special girl you are. Because he’s an asshole who acts like it’s all your decision. Who can put all the blame on you afterwards. Because, honestly, he’s a coward.”

Calm words, calm voice, a quiet night.

She wants to cry. There’s a kind of pain she never experienced, something deep inside her stomach. Something telling her that she should walk away. Now. Now. Something telling her that she deserves better. That no matter what she does, she won’t be enough. Won’t be right. Won’t be what he wants to keep around. Won’t be his.

It hurts. Her chest, her stomach, her heart, her throat, her fingers, her jaw, every breath, every second, it hurts.

But – god, his smile, his scent, his everything, he, he is so much and too much and she buries her face on Luka’s shoulder, trying her best to keep her breathing even.

“Is he worth it?” Luka asks.

Is he worth more than herself?

“Yeah,” she mumbles, voice weak. “I think he is. I really think he is.”

Is that the truth?

“Nobody can tell you what to do, you know.”

“I know.”

“But we’re looking out for you. That’s why I’m telling you that he’s being an asshole.”

She laughs quietly. “Because he was honest?”

“Because he knows he’s hurting you.”

“I’m letting him.”

Here’s the truth.

Here’s to the truth, she lifts her bottle, to the truth as the moon shines down – she knows what it means when a man likes her. When a man likes her more than he should. She knows the tickling feeling of warmth, and it never felt like this. Chat never hurt her, and she hurt him constantly. At least she had the courtesy to never give him hope. At least she had that much.

She drinks her beer. Feels small and powerless. Feels like nothing. A tiny little nothing.

Not enough. Never enough.

“Did Anais ever make you doubt yourself?” she asks, even though she knows the answer.

“No. She always made me feel like someone special.”

“That’s nice. How does that feel?”

“Look into a mirror.”

“Corny.”

“True.”

“She’s lucky.”

“Glad one person on this planet thinks so.”

“Dork. She really is.”

Luka pats her head. “Whoever manages to win you over will be just as lucky.”

“So Adrien isn’t?”

“Adrien is an idiot. He has no idea. You deserve so much more than that.”

Does she? Does she? Is holding on smart? Or will it destroy her? Or will he see how much she likes him? Will he realize? Will he ever realize? Will he ever realize that she would be at his side, in good times and in bad times? That she would never leave him, even if he is a mess, even if the whole world seems like a big joke? That she’d be by his side forever?

She doesn’t know.

She drinks her beer.

“What the fuck, Nino. No, I’m not calling you because I miss your dick. I’m calling you because you are being a bastard. Marinette gave me your number. Whatever! No, I’m not. No, listen. This is none of your business. Yeah, so? And I’m _her_ best friend, and I’d never tell Adrien that she is dating other guys! What the hell? Yeah, helping my ass. Why don’t you kick her in the face while you’re at it? No, fuck you, that’s not your job! That’s my job – and that’s her decision! You know what? No. Bye. Just bye.”

It would be all right. It really would be. She is patient. She can be patient. It doesn’t matter that there are other girls. It really doesn’t. Because other girls aren’t her, and if he gave her the chance to prove just that –

But he canceled their date for tomorrow. After she asked. After she had to ask him.

She isn’t dumb. She knows what it means. She knows that if he’d like her as much as she likes him, he’d make time for her. She knows. God, she knows.

“Marinette? Please open the door.”

She knew. She knew this wouldn’t go well. She should have known from the start. She stares at the sky. Blue and bright. She wishes it was night. The nights belong to her, and to that one man she misses more than she thought she would. A man she’ll never see again. Thousand of chances. She wasted all of them.

“Please. Please! I’m – I have tissues. You can’t have that many tissues. You’ve been crying in here for half an hour!”

It’s not fair. Doesn’t he get it? She’d love him at his lowest. She’d love him even if everything would go wrong. She’d be there for him. In her entirety. Every last bit of her would belong to him. Doesn’t he get it? Doesn’t he? Does she get it? How much of herself can be there for him? Is that the truth? Is that what he is seeing?

How much is she worth? How much is she worth in his eyes? Apparently nothing. Apparently not as much as she should.

“And red wine. And I even bought us pastries. A whole fuckton of them. I can’t eat them on my own, way too many calories. Marinette, come one, please, please!”

She looks at the ceiling. She looks at herself in the mirror. Miserable. She looks miserable. How many times was she happy because of him? How many times did she cry because of him? Why is the second number higher? Is that how things are supposed to be? Does love hurt? Does love have to hurt?

She opens the door.

“Mari-” Alya freezes, a bottle of red wine in her hand. “Marinette.” A sniff, and then Alya wraps her arms around Marinette. “I’m gonna kill this stupid asshole. I’m gonna kill him.”

“Nino?” Marinette is almost unable to get a syllable through her constricted throat.

“Adrien. Assrien.”

Marinette snorts, and then she sniffles.

“Fuck him. Like, the other kind of fuck him. Come on, sweetie. Let’s have some wine and forget about stupid men.”

“I’m being a stupid, naïve girl, aren’t I?”

“No, you aren’t. You’re a girl in love. That’s it. That’s all it is.” Alya shows a sad smile. “But people are assholes, and learning as much hurts like hell.”

“It does.”

“It will get better. I promise.”

She wonders if that’s the truth.

She dreamed of being with him. She dreamed of it so many times. There it was, the opportunity she always wished for. Just a breadth away. Almost hers. Almost – just one step. Almost – just one word. Almost – just one kiss. Almost – but she isn’t dumb. No matter what she would have done, the distance would have never vanished.

“Ya know,” Nino says as he looks at the Seine. Maybe it’s easier to look away than to see a breaking heart. “There’s a lot of stuff he gotta work through right now. Remember his father? Something happened, and since then Adrien has been more than bitter ’bout his old man.”

She nods.

“Honestly, you kinda dodged a bullet. I love him – hell, look at him, course I do – but he’s a mess. It’s why his ex dumped him. Same sweet girl as you, wanted something for her future, who could blame her? And he had no idea how to survive the next day, ya know?”

She nods.

“He’s together with another girl now.”

She laughs. It doesn’t hurt. It hurts too much. She wasn’t enough. Could have pieced him together on her own, but she wasn’t enough – no, she wasn’t right. Not the right fit. Not the right place. Not the right time.

“Not sure if I wanted to hear that,” she says.

“I think you did.”

She stays silent. She stares at water. It’s autumn. Leaves float to the water’s surface, dance around, leave circles that grow bigger and bigger until they vanish, one after the last. “Is he happy?” she whispers.

“Right now? Yeah.”

She nods.

It’s all that’s left. It’s all a big fat fuck-you. It’s all a sign that she was nothing but an obstacle. Kissing her once or twice, and it must have been nice to know that there is someone to fall back on. She feels stupid, so fucking stupid. She hates him, but in reality, she isn’t sure if she will ever stop loving him.

She laughs at herself and shakes her head. “People are stupid.”

“Don’t I know it,” Nino sighs.

“What about you? Got a girlfriend?”

“Flirting with me? Aw, Marinette, that’s flattering.”

“Har har.”

“Fun fact. I had a serious crush on you once. Pretty sure you forgot already.”

This time, she has to laugh in earnest. “What? When?”

“Before Alya and I became a thing. Remember?”

“No! Oh god, right, I so forgot!”

“I swear, dude. Was nervous around you like crazy.”

“It’s been years.”

“I know.”

“Still nervous?”

Nino grins at her. “Nah. Sorry. Got too many Instagram babes for that to happen.”

“Yeah, right. Heartbreaker.”

Heartbreaker – if she just gave someone a chance, someone that made her feel more at peace, someone trustworthy – but some chances are lost forever. It’s too late to act now, and it’s too late to grieve. She can only move forward.

It hurts like hell, and it breaks her apart, but there is nowhere to go but forward.

It needs eight months and four days. It’s May, and soon it will be summer. Marinette’s phone vibrates as she is working on a new design. She clamps her pen between her fingers as she checks the message.

Adrien. Asking her how it’s going.

She stares at the message. Longer, longer.

She doesn’t text him back.


End file.
